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Still, I take out my phone and send one more hopeful text.
Zayn: Tell me how to fix this.
A few minutes of pacing and tugging at my hair later, my phone vibrates, but it's not from who I hoped. The sight of the name on my screen has my entire body tensing. Now is not the fucking time.
Blade: How was your trip?
Blade: Remember, Zaynie. You can't hide her away forever.
The picture that comes with the second text appears and I die inside a million times over. There's no face in the picture, just his hand holding his signature switchblade, but it's where he is that has me seeing red. The door he's in front of is Amelia's class. The one she's sitting in right now. The one she's going to come out of eventually.
My brows furrow as I look at the blade. I distinctly remember taking that from him when I kicked his ass in the middle of the courtyard. Running upstairs, I go to where I put it in my room, only to be met with a Polaroid photo instead.
It's of Blade, standing in front of Amelia while she sleeps soundly in bed. He's sporting a sinister grin while she has no idea he's even in there. The note written at the bottom only makes it worse.
See how easily I can go unseen? You couldn't stop me if you tried.
We were all home. We were all fucking home, and he came in, stole his knife back, took pictures with Amelia, and left, while we had no goddamn idea.
I sprint across the hall and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. There's nothing I can do. I can't seem to protect her, no matter how hard I try. I can't make Easton forgive me. I can't make Blade leave us the fuck alone.
My chest tightens as I dry heave until I can't breathe anymore. I collapse against the bathtub, feeling more defeated than I ever have in my life.
He's going to kill her, and it's all because of me.
I'M SITTING ON THE floor in my room, leaning back against my bed, when there's a quiet knock on the door. Amelia peeks her head in and smiles shyly at me.
“Mind if I come in?”
Every part of me wants to come alive at the sound of her voice, but I know I can't. “Come sit.”
She walks in and closes the door behind her before joining me on the floor. Her lips press against my cheek, and she's probably wondering why I didn't pick her up from class. I wanted to. I planned on it. But after having an anxiety attack in the bathroom, I passed out and didn't wake up until ten minutes ago, when I heard her come through the front door.
Easton must be home, because I could hear him make some snide comment as she got home, but I don't think she responded. Instead of going down there and trying to talk to him, I came into my room and stared at the wall.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “It's been a pretty hectic day.”
“He hates me,” I answer.
She sighs. “He doesn't hate you. He's just mad. Kennedy skipped all her classes but came to cheer practice. She said her roommate flipped out because he almost trashed their room.”
That doesn't surprise me. Easton has always had a bit of a temper. And I guess destroying a dorm room is better than the alternative.
Still, none of this changes the facts. I'm bad for Amelia. I know it. Easton knows it. Blade knows it. Her life is in danger, and she doesn't even realize it, and it's all because of me. There is no winning here. There's nothing I can do to keep her safe. Hell, I can't even protect her in our own damn house.
The only thing I can think to do is take Knox's advice for the second time since this shit show started. But fuck is it going to hurt like hell.
“He'll get
over it,” she whispers. “Just give him time.”
I shake my head and look down at the ground. “Amelia.”
Her hand pulls away from my arm as if it was burned. “Meelz. Call me Meelz,” she begs. “You always call me Meelz.”
“Amelia,” I repeat sadly, and already I can feel the both of us starting to break.
You're doing this for her.
